Sisters in Arms
by ElectricHummingbird
Summary: After coming back from Afghanistan, two pilots, Isla and Sharlene, need help to find a flat. When they remember their good friend John Watson, they begin to live a new life... (Johnlock to an extent) [Co-authored with Captain Jamie Tiberia Kirk]
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is co-authored with Captain Jamie Tiberia Kirk. Neither of us own BBC Sherlock. Uh, I dunno what else to say, so... enjoy! :D

* * *

**Sharlene's POV:**

"Lieutenant Harper to hangar one, please!"

I sighed as I heard the announcement coming out of the speakers in the officer's mess. My best friend, Isla, and wing(wo)man smiled a smile that clearly said, _I told you, you shouldn't fly that maneuver!_

"Don't say a word! I know! I shouldn't have done this!" I mumbled and stood up.

I knew exactly that the rest of my squadron was watching me, while I was walking out of the room. I was in no rush to reach the hangar. It was almost clear that Captain Shatner wanted to see me because of the maneuver I did yesterday.

When I reached the hangar door despite my attempt to not reach it in the next five minutes, I not just guessed it but saw it.  
Hell, Captain Shatner was angry.

"Lieutenant Harper! What THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING YESTERDAY!? Are you completely out of your 'so bloody smart' mind?" he screamed and he went as red as a beet, while screaming at me.

"You not just endangered your life, but THAT of YOUR wingman too!"

"Sir… I just…"

"No, Harper! Just no! You'd never cared about others, just you and your aviation! To fly in a squadron MEANS TEAMWORK! Now tell me, Harper, DO YOU KNOW WHAT TEAMWORK IS?"

He didn't stop screaming and I began to look a bit pathetic, at least I thought I would look pathetic. I nodded slightly. Suddenly Captain Shatner became calm and said: "But you're the best pilot the RAF has and our men need you and your wingman in Afghanistan."

I was shocked at first. He implied that Isla and me, we would go to Afghanistan.

"Before you ask, Harper; yes! You are going to Afghanistan; in exactly three days. Now go, go and tell her."

* * *

**Isla's POV:**

As my wing (wo)man unwillingly walked away, snickers could be heard. I whipped my head around and glared at the others in our squadron. Instantly they quieted. About ten minutes later, my friend returned, looking a bit confused. The snickers started up again, but I didn't bother to stop it this time. I shook my head and grinned. "We both saw that coming, Sharlene."

"Well here's something you didn't see coming: we're going to Afghanistan," the pilot next to me said.

At first I didn't believe her. "Nice. That's always been first on my list of travel plans."

"Really," Sharlene insisted. "Captain Shatner is sending us there in three days!"

"Is that why he called you in?" I asked, tilting my head to the side, not unlike a confused puppy.

"Well that, and to scold me for a certain maneuver..."

I laughed. "Well, at least THAT part was predictable..." I trailed off, my mind filling itself with curious thoughts of Afghanistan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sharlene's POV:**

I hated it to let someone else fly. I felt uncomfortable with not having control about the airplane I was sitting in. And the bumpy weather didn't make it better. I looked at the seats on the opposite of the plane, watching the men sitting there. Isla was talking to one of them. He was a nice looking guy with blue eyes and blond hair, and I could tell by the red cross on his coveralls that he was a doctor or at least in the ambulance corps of the RAF.

"And that's my best friend and wing(wo)man Lieutenant Sharlene Harper," Isla said, and I smiled at the guy.

"Hello then, I'm John Watson..."

As we chatted a bit, I had the gut feeling that I would be glad sometime to have him as a friend.

"Well, Sharly, you look a bit pale, everything alright?" Isla asked after two hours of flying in a heavy storm, with a pilot in the cockpit who probably couldn't even tell what the difference between a Cessna and a Gulfstream was.  
I gave her a look that should say, _You know when neither you nor I are in the cockpit, I hate flying!_

* * *

After landing, well… it wasn't a real landing. It felt more like falling down. _Great_ pilot, after the landing I was sure that this pilot couldn't tell a Cessna from a Gulfstream or even a yoke from a steering wheel. John looked like he felt a bit dizzy now.

"Rough landing, well… I would have done that a lot better…" I said, not without self-confidence. We left the airplane through the back door and chatted a bit, waiting for someone to tell us where to go or what to do next.  
The base was even bigger than I had expected it to be, and the three of us looked a bit lost; the soldiers, which were with us onboard that plane, had already left to do whatever they had to do.

"So… you have a degree in chemistry and physics, and you studied in Oxford as well as in Harvard? Impressive! Scholarship?" John asked after Isla had told him about our college days together in Oxford and Harvard.

"My super-brain best friend, yes! Me just rich parents… more or less…" I sighed. I was smart enough to get a scholarship but my parents had already paid for university, so I couldn't even try to stand on my own feet.  
To have rich parents wasn't great. They paid my flight lessons, yes. But they were never there when I needed them. I always had nannies, but I never had parents. I got a Cessna when I was only 17, yes. But I never got love from anyone. Till I found my soul sister, I was pretty lonely. Oh and how my parents were upset, when I went to RAF and became a fighter pilot.

Suddenly a man in the uniform of a Lieutenant Junior Grade appeared and told us to follow him.

"He could at least salute… we are superior officers…" I mumbled.

"Well… forget it…" Isla mouthed back.

I turned around one more time, shrugging and waving. Dr. John Watson stood there, looking a bit pathetic.

**Isla's POV:**

Shaking my head, I started after the man and motioned for Sharlene and Dr. Watson to follow. As I walked, I couldn't help but think about the conversation we'd just had. It was true, I'd gotten into college with a scholarship and Sharlene's parents paid for her. Sharlene had described me as being super smart, but in truth, I'd barely snagged that scholarship. If I hadn't hated where I lived before so much, I wouldn't have even tried.

However, frustration fueled me. Half the time I was irritated with my family, half the time I wanted to escape memories. Honestly, it wasn't a bad life. Everything was fine and I really could've stayed, had I wanted to. Nevertheless, I was determined to get out of my parents' home as soon as I was of age and through with school, then handle college myself. In the end, everything worked out great. I met Sharlene and joined the RAF with her. And now that we'd been chosen to be sent to Afghanistan, I couldn't have asked for more.

But of course, I knew that would change.

* * *

**Sharlene's POV:**

Three weeks later:

"So… what was the most embarrassing moment in your life?" John asked. We sat in the officer's mess and chatted about things like 'embarrassing moments.' I didn't have to think about that question.

"When I was a very young pilot… I was only 17 years old… I approached my "home"-airfield for the first time at night. I wanted to sound cool when I radioed the tower for the landing permission, so I said: 'Guess who?' instead of using the official questions. Well the ATCs didn't seem to like that… they turned the lights of the runway off and even though I flew by IFR, without lights, I was blind. Then the tower radioed: 'Now, sweetie, guess where!'"

I watched John turn red and nearly die of laughter, till he fell off his chair. Now it was me dying of laughter. But not for long, suddenly the red alert went off.

"All fighter-jet pilots to the hangars, a town is being attacked!" someone called and I ran out of the room, the last thing I heard before racing over to hangar three, was John calling after me that I should be careful out there.

Isla showed up, running towards her combat-G6, while I was stopped by Commander Harrison, who was in charge of me because I was the squadron leader.

"Be careful, they have SAMs! I don't want to you to risk something out there! Good luck!"

When he saluted I did too and jumped into my Eurofighter Typhoon. By radio I said: "Okay, guys! They have SAMs; everyone watches his or her wingman! Well, team, let's get the show on the road!"

My fighter-jet was pulled out of the hangar and when I got the sign, I started the engines and like an arrow, I darted into the sky. I took my position in front of the others, leading us to our destination, hoping everyone would still be fine after that operation.

When we reached the battlefield a few minutes later, I immediately recognized that it was for sure: something bad was going to happen. They had too many surface to air missiles. We were too busy dodging the missiles, so we couldn't go in a flight mode that would allow us to fire back.

"Guys, go back home! I'm going to do this on my own! Lieutenant Colins, get the squadron home safe! THAT IS A BLOODY ORDER!" I almost screamed into my headset. It was clear that Isla would try to fight, but this time I couldn't allow it.

"LIEUTENANT COLINS! PEEL OFF, NOW!"

I saw in the corner of my eyes that the G6 turned and flew back. Now I was on my own.  
I went to nosedive, shooting at the men at the ground, hoping to hit those b******, but when I flared out, just 32 yards over the ground, bullets hit my left wing. I knew instantly that I was losing fuel and my LH aileron was nearly destroyed. More bullets hit my plane, I tried to gain height, elevator and rudder.

"S***…" I muttered as I lost control over the Typhoon.

I bailed out, even if I knew that I was too low over the surface. _At least I have managed to be as near as possible to_ _the base, _was my last thought before I felt my body hitting the ground hard and everything went black.

* * *

**Isla's POV:**

_She's going to get herself killed,_ I thought_._ I wanted nothing more than to turn back and help Sharlene, but I knew that would only distract her and get her angry. Now I had no choice but to keep flying away. If I wasn't allowed to keep my own wing(wo)man safe, I'd keep the rest of the squadron safe.

That didn't mean I couldn't go back once the squadron was alright, however. Once landing and making sure everyone else was fine, I dashed back into the officers' mess. Thankfully, John was still awkwardly sitting there (looking hilariously bored out of his mind, I might add), and with a bit more force than explanation, I dragged him out.

"Whoa, wait! What's happening, where are we going?!" he stuttered.

Remembering something, I stopped suddenly, causing the poor doctor to walk straight into me. "Do you have a medical kit?"

"No..."

"GO GET ONE!"

Once John returned with medical supplies and a facial expression that got more and more confused, I directed him into the G6 and took off toward the battlefield again.

_This kind of thing is becoming annoying, Sharly. You better be alive when I get back there!_

* * *

**Sharlene's POV:**

Surely, I was dead.

I felt nothing. There was no pain. Nothing. It was cold, that was the only thing I noticed.

Or maybe it wasn't cold. I didn't know; comfortable silence and darkness around me, asking nothing, not forcing me to do something. I wondered if death felt like that, like nothing, but I didn't really care. Suddenly the pain came, or came back, I couldn't remember if it had been there before. I thought my head would burst because of the pain.

Of course it didn't burst.

The darkness was still there, but no longer silent. It screamed at me. I needed a few moments to recognize that someone was talking to me, but my headache was so bad, that even a whisper felt like a scream. The voice seemed familiar, calm, concentrated, yet concerned. All of sudden the familiar voice got angry.

"Blimey! Bring the bloody stretcher! NOW! She's dying!"

_Oh…_ I thought, apparently I was dying. Well, the pain I felt indicated that I was not stable, or something like that. The thing was, I didn't care. I heard that I might die and I didn't care.  
I couldn't move, couldn't speak, but I wasn't even afraid. It seemed I had turned into a Vulcan. Spock wasn't afraid either when he was in that volcano.

I felt that I was lifted and put on a stretcher and I still couldn't move, the pain was too heavy. I wanted the darkness and the silence back, and both came suddenly back.

**John's POV:**

"S***! We are losing her again!"

With Isla staring at me, like she was going to kill me, it wasn't easy to do my job. It never was easy when I kneeled above a friend trying to stitch her up. And I couldn't lose this friend in particular. I just had to do my best.

But sometimes… the best wasn't good enough.

**Isla's POV:**

Fear clouded my thoughts as I stared at John with the eyes of a hawk. I watched every move he made, every move Sharlene made. As still and dead-looking as Sharlene was, she did keep my interest; with her battered and bloodied body, even the slightest rise of her chest or twitch she made was a miracle to me. There was almost nothing I could do except watch the horrible scene, and occasionally hand John a medical tool. So instead, I focused all my energy into willing my wing(wo)man alive.


End file.
